Last year’s Summer Afternoon
I woke up an hour before noon today, alarmed by a dog whining on the street.
I decided to lie down for some time, reply to a few texts and mindlessly scroll through Instagram. My hair was messy, my glasses are kept on my plastic side table- a make do to keep my earphones and extension-chord. Maa always complains about the wires as it makes it difficult to clean the floor.
On my left there is an আলনা (An open closet), on which lay a few winter clothes. The tradition is such that during the month of March as winter slowly recedes and summer seeps in, blankets and jackets are sent for dry cleaning but this time (owing to the pandemic) they were never sent. It was melancholic to see blankets and jackets on one corner gathering dust. Baba complains about how winter will come back in another three months, and the blankets will lay here gathering dust, it has become my task to put them inside the wardrobe now.
I finally decided to wake up with my ceremonial prayer, feeling weird and dizzy, with a sense of background anxiety. I went to my balcony, opened the windows, turned on the fan and sat down looking at the street below. I thought that someone should put a warning sign that says “Dogs ahead, drive slow”, it is a very busy road- one that connects crucial parts of the city. There are a few street dogs playing and running around, I am always worried one of them will get hurt. I looked outside at the sun partially falling on the plants below, some of them were covered by the shade of the building, I sat down on the chair and listened to some music, thinking about something I have long forgotten, my messy hair was itching and I needed to shampoo.
It was a summer morning, my eyes showed sleepiness, head felt dizzy and I was yet to brush. I did not want to get up and start with the day, all I wanted to do was to sit, stare at the trees dancing and listen to the cuckoo’s singing. I felt drugged by the crisp wind, like I sniffed summer’s honey, intoxicated by silence, taken afar by the cuckoos.
Finally, I decided to take a walk to the kitchen, Maa has been making cabbage and dal today, and she asks me to keep an eye out for any vegetable vendors that pass, she is aghast that there are no lemons in the house. She cherishes the summer lemonade she makes for herself while cooking in the warm kitchen. My sister was still sleeping, her room smelt like warm air trapped in a dark room, it needed sunlight, but my sister, a teenager refuses to let sunlight in.
I kept walking around the house, from one end to the other; I see a stitched white curtain slowly dancing and I sense the beauty in this summer stillness. I decided to wash my face, the warm water on my sleepy face felt comforting, my skin felt softer. I got some lal chah (red tea) and Oreo, turned on my stand fan and decided to type out my summer morning slowly sinking into an afternoon.
It was a Saturday, my head felt light, eyes dizzy. There was an eerie calmness, stillness in things around me, almost alive, as if I am conversing with them.
I was unsure how this summer afternoon will be, but I knew that the multiplicity of existence and possibilities will keep dancing with each other, in stillness. Things are in motion, and in stillness at the same time.
An August Summer 2020,
May the cuckoos sing for you,
And the trees dance alongside you.
